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when Captain Thrace
made a joke during a briefing by Harkov.  The Commodore had struck him.  Jon
considered that Harkov embodied everything wrong with the Imperial Fleet,
overbearing, inflexible, and more interested in personal gain than the ideals
under which the Empire had been incorporated.
    “Commander, a word,” Harkov demanded with a strong voice
that carried his authority as a senior Imperial officer.
    “I’m busy,” Jon replied brusquely without even breaking
stride, forcing the Commodore to hurry to keep up with his longer stride.
    “That was not a request,” Harkov called.  “Need I remind you
that I am your superior,” he insisted. 
    Stopping, Jon let out a hiss of frustration as he slowly
counted to ten in his head before turning to face Harkov, his frustration plain
for all to see.  “No, you are simply a higher ranking officer, you are in no
way superior, Commodore.”  Jon placed just enough emphasis on his rank to
remind him of his recent demotion by the Emperor. 
    It was obvious that Harkov was struggling to maintain his
composure at the obvious insult.  “I want to know what you were just discussing
with Marcus,” he demanded.
    “It was a private conversation,” Jon retorted.  “I am sure
if the Emperor,” Jon emphasised his title, “wishes you to be aware of the
meeting, he will inform you himself.  Now if you will excuse me.”  Jon made it
clear that he did not give a damn if he was excused or not, turning his back on
the Commodore and continuing towards the flight deck.
    “Fuck you Radec!”  Harkov shouted at his retreating form.  “You
son-of-a-bitch, you think you are somebody just because you are Aurelius’
latest lap-dog!  I’ll have your head on a platter one day!  You mark my words! 
You’ll get what’s coming to you.  You’ll see, sooner, rather than later.”
    Stopping in the corridor and pivoting around to face the
Commodore, Jon put his hand on the hilt of his sword and replied in a biting
tone of voice.  “On second thought Commodore I can probably spare a few minutes
now.”  Harkov just blanched before hurrying off in the opposite direction. 
With eyes as cold as the depth of winter, Jon watched until Harkov had rounded
a corner and was out of sight before finally letting his frustration with the
contemptible officer show.  On the way towards the flight deck Jon could not shake
the feeling that Harkov was going to haunt him for many years to come.
    *****
    Arriving at the flight deck, Jon was aghast to find dozens
of cases piled high, all slowly being loaded onto the Eternal Light .  As
they were all marked with the Aurelius family crest Jon was willing to place
good money that they belonged to the Princess.  Already in a torrid mood
following his run in with the Commodore, Jon was in no mood to cater to the
whims of her royal pain-in-the-ass.
    “Chief!” Jon bellowed towards the deck chief who was busy
supervising the final pre-flight checks for the ‘ Light . 
    “Commander?” He queried, hurrying over to Jon.
    “What the hell is this?” He demanded motioning towards the
cases some piled three, four high.
    “Princess Aurelius’ personal luggage,” the chief replied.  “She
ordered that it should all be loaded prior to your departure.”  He explained
apologetically, correctly deducing that the Commander was less than impressed
with the unwanted additional cargo.
    “Dispose of it!” Jon snapped at the chief.  His expression
would have been comical had Jon been paying attention and not staring a hole at
the small mountain of cargo, as if by sheer force of will he could make the
small mountain vanish.
    “Excuse me, sir?” The chief stuttered in disbelief, not
believing what the Commander just ordered. 
    Turning his gaze back towards the deck chief, realising just
how his previous instructions could have been interpreted he clarified.  “Have
the Princess’s cargo transferred back to her personal quarters on my orders,”
he